


Today, Tomorrow and Forever

by writeranthea



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Girlfriends/No Wives, M/M, One Shot Collection, Other: See Story Notes, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-02-24 03:21:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23669701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeranthea/pseuds/writeranthea
Summary: A collection of various Cressi and Serard ficlets/one-shots that didn't make it as individual stories.
Relationships: Gerard Piqué/Sergio Ramos, Lionel Messi/Cristiano Ronaldo
Comments: 5
Kudos: 35





	Today, Tomorrow and Forever

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I posted this story on AO3. If you see it on any other website or platform, please consider that I did not consent to it.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having since tried to accept that his feelings for Leo would probably never been returned, Cristiano wouldn't have dreamed that a rather unpleasant incident at Sergio's birthday party would finally bring him clarity.
> 
> Warning: albeit not too graphic, there's physical abuse in this story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I usually prefer to write from Leo's POV, but decided to give Cristiano's POV a try this time :-) Also, I finished this at like 2:30 AM so please excuse any mistakes that I didn't catch. 
> 
> Not betaed, all mistakes are mine.

_You had a lot of crooks try to steal your heart_  
 _Never really had luck, couldn't never figure out_  
 _How to love (how to love)  
How to love (how to love)  
_ _Mm you had a lot of moments that didn’t last forever_  
 _Now you in a corner tryna put it together_  
 _How to love (how to love)_

While Lionel Messi had always been somewhat pesky to him, the way that he was had shifted dramatically ever since his retirement and Cristiano was painfully aware of it. He had thought that they, once they would’ve retired from active football, would work out their differences, put their ridiculous rivalry and their imposed titles of archenemies aside and would maybe even become something close to friends. It wasn’t as if they didn’t end up seeing each other nearly every weekend.

With James getting serious with Neymar and Sergio since having proposed to Gerard, it was pretty much impossible for Cristiano Ronaldo and Lionel Messi to not end up in the same room. When they had still been playing, the little Argentine had been pesky in the worst way. Or so Cristiano had thought back then. Whenever they had clashed on the pitch, Lionel had rarely ever snapped, had rarely ever let an emotion slip past his stoic expression and God knew how many times the media had compared their reactions, their tactics, their goals and their failures. In all the years that he had played, whether it had been in Manchester, during his time in Madrid or finally in Turin - there had never, ever been someone like Messi on the pitch with him. No one had ever been as enticing or annoying and it had been quite embarrassing when he had caught himself missing their rivalry during his last season with Juventus, though said embarrassment had been nothing compared to when he had first realised that Lionel Messi had claimed more space on his mind than he had ever been willing to confess.

Cristiano knew that he was bisexual ever since his teenage years, but he had kept the circle of the people who knew about it as small as possible for decades. The management had always claimed that it would be safer if it would be kept in hiding, no matter under whose contract he had stood, and then that he had left the world of active football behind him, he only shook his head whenever he would think about it. It had never been meant to protect _him_ , but rather the club and the image that Cristiano Ronaldo had represented for them. For years he had only acted as _Ronaldo_ , as _Number 7_ and while it had opened many doors for him, it had locked at least just as many forever, one of them apparently being a possible reconciliation with Lionel Messi. He had not bothered to keep a count on how many times he had approached the younger man during one of the weekend evenings that they had been invited to hang out with the circle of friends they had shared, and it would’ve been a blatant lie if Cristiano would’ve said that he had not been pretty much pissed off by the fact that _Sergio_ had been on friendly terms with Leo sooner than he had managed to be.

It also would’ve been a lie, an even bigger one, if he would’ve tried to disclaim that he wasn’t interested in Leo in a way that had long exceeded the borders of mere friendship. He no longer tried to silence his mind when it reminded him of how good the little Argentine looked since he had decided to grow a bit of scruff that wiped out the last remaining bit of his boyish looks, or how much he would’ve liked to palm his ridiculously plump backside that always seemed accentuated by the trousers that Leo wore. The first few occasions that they had crossed paths after they had retired, Cristiano had decided to seek the corner farthest away from his former, or current, arch-rival once they had acknowledged each other’s presence with single look, and had resumed to watch Leo from said corner for longer than he had wanted to. He simply couldn’t have looked away. His plight had only gotten worse the more that they had seen each other because no matter how many evenings that they had spend at the same location, and sometimes even on the same couch: the ice between them hadn’t melted.

An entire godforsaken year had went by like this, a realisation that caused Cristiano’s face to pull into a grimace where he was looking at himself in the bathroom mirror. He had turned forty this January. _Forty_. He had never really thought about leaving his thirties, just as he had never considered that he’d still be alone by that time. His love life was pretty much in shambles ever since Irina and him had called it quits years ago and other than a few flings every then and there, nothing worth mentioning had happened. It’s not as if he never had chances, especially after his retirement had gone through, but for the last year there had been Messi on his mind. Little Leo Messi with his lopsided smile, his shyness that he never quite overcame and his ridiculous good figure. Cristiano wanted him, and he wanted him badly. The worst thing about the entire situation was the way that Leo had turned down every single one of his attempted approaches. Each and every one, and he doubted that the Argentine had ever annoyed him more.

When he had tried to ask whether he would like something from the bar, Leo had retorted that he could very well get it for himself. When he had tried to ask him how he had been, the only answer he had gotten had been a huff before Leo had walked off. Sometimes, Leo wouldn’t even react to him at all, wouldn’t even do so much as roll his eyes at him. As if he had tried, and succeeded, to blend Cristiano’s entire existence out. It drove him crazy, so much that he thought about not going to Sergio’s birthday. He discarded that thought almost as fast as it had come up, however, as he would’ve been damned if he would miss his best friend’s birthday party because of that... _pulga_. Sighing, he closed his eyes. He couldn’t even insult him in his mind without feeling bad about it - and just like that, his thoughts were back with the one person he tried not to think about.

He made sure that his hair was coiffed to nothing short to perfection, put his diamond earrings in and left a note for Junior on the kitchen table before he got into his Bugatti and reversed off his driveway. The drive to Sergio’s and Gerard’s place was a quiet one and Cristiano chose to listen to the low roaring of the engine rather than any music, having turned the volume off with a rather passive-aggressive motion of his hand. He absentmindedly tapped his fingers against the steering wheel as he drove, his mind still revolving around the man who apparently still thought of him as nothing more than an enemy. Was he heartbroken about it? Cristiano wouldn’t have gone that far, but he did feel an undeniable twinge in his chest at the prospect of walking in and seeing another man’s wrapped around Leo’s small waist. At least he house would be big enough for him to flee the scene if needed. _Yeah, as if that would change anything_ , he threw against his own argumentation.

There were a few cars parked on the Piqué-Ramos driveway and Cristiano swiftly parked his car beside he sleek grey Mercedes S-Class which he knew belonged to James, drawing in a deep breath as he loosened the seat belt. He released it with a sigh after a few seconds of having kept it in his lungs and reached for Sergio’s gift on the passenger’s seat. He was able to hear laughter as he waited for the front door to be opened. “Ah, look who’s here!”, Sergio greeted him, pulling him into a bone-crushing embrace that he willingly returned, both men laughing as they patted each other’s backs.

“Happy birthday, Ser. You’re getting old.”

The Spaniard snorted, “Yeah, as if. Look at you though. Are those grey hairs I see?”

“You wish.”

“Come in, come in,” Sergio laughed and patted his back one more time before he stepped aside to allow him to enter, accepting the present that Cristiano handed him.

He was lead further into the house and into the vast open living room area, not surprised that he knew every one of the guests, some better than others, and he hugged a few of them before he plopped down on the free space beside Iker. The wave of disappointment that swept over him when he noticed that Leo wasn’t there was so immense that he wouldn’t have been surprised it it was visible on his face and he cleared his throat before he thanked Gerard for getting him an alcohol-free beer. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

Cristiano tried not stare when Sergio took his fiance’s hand once Gerard was sitting beside him, intertwined their fingers and drew it onto his thigh. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t happy for them - he could clearly remember how long it had taken those two to stop circling each other and how _insufferable_ Sergio had been during that time, but he couldn’t stop his wishful longing for him and Leo sititng side by side like that at some point. Thank God no one was actually able to hear his thoughts, which were no different to those of a crushing fourteen-year old at that moment. They chattered, drank and discussed what kind of food they’d like to order later that evening and while it was just the sort of party that Cristiano had since began to prefer over any loud one, his mood didn’t really lift. He eventually decided to jump over his own shadow. “Leo, is he coming or not?”

In his mind, he’d seen the scene coming to a screeching halt and himself being looked at as if he’d just fallen from the sky, but neither happened. “He is,” Gerard said between two sips from his alcoholic beer. Cristiano was able to watch how a frown formed on the ex-Barça player as he stared into a random spot before he pulled his phone out and looked over at Neymar, who had since turned his gaze towards Gerard as if alarmed. “He wanted to be here over thirty minutes ago...”

Sergio patted his fiancé’s thigh as if he wanted to calm a child, but the creases on Piqué’s face didn’t disappear. Cristiano couldn’t have explained the uneasiness it caused to gather in the pit of his stomach. “I bet it’s just the traffic, bebé.”

He tried not to be too obvious when he watched how Gerard shook his head, his face suddenly a shade paler, “It’s...”

It was only then that Sergio seemed to have caught onto his fiance’s change of behaviour and his eyes widened, barely noticably and just for a second. “Didn’t you say that he wanted to get his things from-”

“Yes,” Gerard cut him off, hastedly typing on his phone. “Fuck.” He held it to his ear as he stood from the couch, Neymar doing it him alike. “Ney, did he text you? Did he say where he was?”

“No...”

Cristiano watched them nearly dart out of the living room, utmost confused by what had just happened, and his heart skipped a beat at the possibility that something might’ve happened. He took a rather uneasy sip from his beer as his gaze fell onto the coffee table in front of him, not managing to catch up on the conversation that he had participated in before.

“Sergio.” It wasn’t only the Spaniard who perched up when Gerard’s call emerged from outside the living room and Sergio put his own drink down with an unintelligible curse before he hurried to get to where his fiancé had called him from. Eavesdropping really wasn’t Cristiano’s thing, but he couldn’t have helped himself to try and listen to the commotion that enfolded within hearing distance. James appeared to be the only one who had seemed somewhat alarmed, too, while the other guests hadn’t noticed or, quite frankly, didn’t care.

He heard a door being thrown close, then a tangle of voices and something that could’ve been a choked sob before the sound of footfalls hurrying along the corridor was audible in the living room. The chatters and laughter did die down when the small group passed right by the opened door and another, that time unmistakable sob reached them. _Leo_. They had walked so fast that Cristiano hadn’t actually seen who it had been that Piqué and Neymar had flanked, but he instinctively knew that it was Leo. He snapped his mouth shut as soon as he noticed that it had dropped open, clenching it while he stared at the door. His heart was yelling at him to run after them and find out what happened, but his mind was reasoning that Leo probably didn’t want to see him. As he looked up, his gaze involuntarily locked with James, and his legs almost acted on their own accords when the Columbian cocked his head into the direction of the door.

Cristiano followed him wordlessly. “James,” he set on once they had come to stand in the corridor, more than just a bit unsure what to do. The door of the nearby kitched was closed and while he made out voices, they were too muffled for him to understand anything useful.

James seemed conflicted and actually opened and closed his mouth a few times before he spoke, so as if he wasn’t sure whether what he was doing was a good idea or not. “Listen,” he eventually said, clearing his throat and peaking past Cristiano’s shoulder to catch a sight of the kitchen door. “I really shouldn’t be telling you this, but what I think is happening right now happened dozen of times before.”

“What?” His brows pulled together when he tried to put the words into a sense-making context.

His friend sighed once more. “Look, I wanted to wait until you decide to talk about it but I’ve noticed how you’ve been acting around Leo.” Swallowing, he turned to lean his back against the wall. He felt caught, trapped. _Embarrassed_. Though why was he embarrassed? James was one of his closest friends. “And I know that he’s been anything but open to you...”

“Yeah,” he retorted with a humorless snort, despite the worry that yet had to dissipate. “He made it _very_ clear that he can’t stand me.”

The Columbian shook his head and it took a long moment until he spoke again. “It’s not that he doesn’t like you. Ney will probably kill me for telling you this, but I’ve heard them talking a lot about you on the phone.” It was ridiculous how much Cristiano’s chest had tightened at that, and he fought to keep a triumphant smile down. “Look, Cris...” He sobered quite a lot when James laid a hand onto his forearm and he feared to be told that his hopes of anything more than friendship were in vain. “You do know that he was with Suárez, right?”

Of course he knew; he rather _wouldn’t_ have known. He nodded, battling to calm the racing of his heart. “But they broke up a while ago, didn’t they?” Cristiano didn’t know all that much, but he did know that whatever Leo and Suárez had been engaged in hadn’t lasted all that long.

“Yes,” James said, suddenly a bit snappish, though Cristiano sensed that it wasn’t directed at him. “He abused him.” His breath caught in his throat but James didn’t wait for a possible answer from him before he went on. “I mean I knew that he’s an asshole but _fuck_ , I had no idea that he’s such a-” The Columbian snorted while a blush of anger rose into his face and Cristiano continued to stare at him, unable to speak, unable to process it. “He cheated on Leo every weekend and _no_ , that’s not an exaggeration. An understatement, probably. He didn’t allow Leo to go out _at all_ , he even took his phone away so that he couldn’t text his friends. He fucking beat him, Cris. Black and blue. I’ve never seen anything like it.” His heart ached, it physically _ached_ and in a way, it made sense to him that Leo had turned a cold shoulder to him. “Leo’s got some sort of restraining order running against him right now.”

“What?”

“Yeah, the lawyers managed to keep it on the low so far.”

“James, I-” Their conversation was interrupted when the kitchen door was opened and Sergio stepped out into the corridor. The Spaniard was shaking his head as he closed the door behind him, apparently not noticing Cristiano and James standing a few meters away from him, thus being honestly startled when did perceive them. He didn’t say anything, however, and merely threw a look at James before he disappeared into the living room. “Fuck,” Cristiano muttered, running a hand over his face. “I’ll be with you in a minute, okay? I just need to think right now.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, it coming in contact with the wall with a soft thud. _Leo had been in an abusive relationship_. He couldn’t believe it. His heart was broken, both due to the fact that Leo had gone through something like this and that it had practically wiped out his chances. It would only be natural if Leo wouldn’t even want to trust him, wouldn’t it? No, eavesdropping really wasn’t his thing, but Cristiano was unable to resist the temptation and he sneaked to the kitchen, holding his breath as he pressed his ear against the door. He could make out Leo’s sobs, which sounded muffled as if he was releasing them into something, and Gerard’s attempt at soothing him. “It’s okay, you’re safe here, Leo. It’s okay, it’s okay...”

His heart was beating so forcefully that he felt it in his throat.

“We should call the police,” Neymar threw in.

“N-No police,” Leo negated and Cristiano never thought that he would ever hear him cry like that. “N-No po-oli-ice, ple-ease.”

“Leo...”

“Okay, shhh, okay, no police. But keep the ice on that for now, I’ll go and get you some Ibu.” It should’ve been his hint to turn and leave as fast as he could, but his feet were frozen to the spot and he didn’t even flinch when the door was opened and he came face to face with a positively enraged Gerard Piqué. “What do you want?”, the Spaniard snapped, closing the door as if to hinder Cristiano from peaking inside.

“I, uhm, I just-”

Gerard sighed. “You know, don’t you.”

It wasn’t a real question, and so he merely nodded. “Can I... see him?”

The taller man clenched his jaw and he eyed him for a moment longer before he stepped back into the kitchen, probably to ask Leo. Cristiano could’ve smacked himself, if Leo didn’t want to speak to him under normal circumstances why would he... The door was opened once again and that time, he came face to face with both Gerard and Neymar. While fury was burning in their eyes, he sensed that it wasn’t actually directed at him, and the Spaniard nodded before he walked off, Neymar following him. Cristiano was so stunned that he remained frozen on the spot for a good few seconds with his hand on the door handle and his heart in his throat. The latter somersaulted when he gave himself a mental push and slowly opened the door to enter the kitchen. There Leo was, slumped rather than seated in a chair at the kitchen table and Cristiano had to swallow hard at the sight that the younger man was presenting. Leo’s entire body seemed to be shaken by a tremble, his eyes were red and swollen and stood in a stark contrast against his otherwise pale complexion. Cristiano felt sick to his stomach at the fact that he was holding an ice pack, wrapped in a tea towel, against the left side of his face.

“Hey,” he whispered, simply because he didn’t know what else he possibly could’ve said, and he walked further into the kitchen to eventually come to stand a good meter away from Leo. The younger man had since stopped sobbing, though his eyes were still filled with tears.

“He-ey,” Leo responded, his voice barely audible, and he kept his tired gaze directed to the kitchen floor rather than at Cristiano.

They fell into silence, which lasted until there was a knock at the door and Gerard peaked in, holding up a package of painkillers. Cristiano silently took them from the Spaniard and crossed the kitchen to get a bottle of water out of the fridge. He unscrewed it, pressed two pills out of the blister pack and carefully approached Leo. “I checked, you can take two at once,” he said, and while he had made sure to not raise his voice, the younger man still flinched. His heart cracked when Leo lowered the ice pack to accept the water and the painkillers with trembling hands, thus revealing the swollen, battered side of his face. 

There was a fist-sized bruise spreading out over his cheekbone and given that his bottom lip was swollen and crusted with blood, it was probably split. Cristiano heard him _whimper_ when he opened his mouth barely enough to pop the pills in and take a sip of water. Somehow, he knew that it was his chance to get closer to him, figuratively and literally speaking, and his heart thuddered as stepped closer, took the ice pack off the table and crouched down in front of Leo. The other’s eyes widened, but he didn’t say anything. “Can I see?”, Cristiano whispered. He wouldn’t ever have dared to touch him unless he would be allowed to. More tears seemed to rise into Leo’s eyes as he looked down at Cristiano before he slowly turned his head, thus fully revealing the bruise. He could actually make out the outline of Suárez’s fist and he needed to suppress a shudder when he involuntarily wondered about the force that had been needed to result in a bruise like that. Bringing up the ice pack, he carefully held it against the bruised cheek and while Leo winced, he didn’t make a sound.

 _This wasn’t how they were supposed to come close._ “Leo?” His voice was unsteady when he spoke, though he cared very little about. Other than opening his eyes again, Leo didn’t answer to him being adressed but it was enough of a reaction for Cristiano. “I’m sorry if I...”, he trailed off, and his eyes flicked down to Leo’s injured lip. “I didn’t mean to force myself onto you. I only tried to... get to know you.” He tried and was eventually allowed to meet the younger man’s gaze and when tears began to make their way down Leo’s face, Cristiano hesitantly raised his free hand and wiped them away as gentle as he could. To his surprise, Leo didn’t flinch that time.

“You didn’t,” came the whispered reply. It was accompanied by a few more tears, which Cristiano instantly wiped away. “I-I’m sorry tha-at I’ve been such an a-asshole to you.”

“It’s okay, I understand.”

He noticed how Leo was squeezing his hands together where he was resting them in his lap and in combination with the tremble that yet had to subside, it made for a sight that was about the most painful one he ever witnessed. Leo’s breath hitched with a sob halfway through him speaking. “But you sho-ouldn’t.”

“Leo-”

“It’s too late now, i-isn’t it?” A hot flush shot through him when he realised just what it was that Leo was hinting at and he opened his mouth to answer, though his words died in his throat when he saw how devastated the other looked and he stood without really thinking about it. He held out his hand, silently offering Leo to help him onto his feet and he pulled him along once Leo had taken it.

Cristiano gathered the smaller man in his arms, careful as to not put any accidental pressure onto his sore face when he guided Leo’s head to his chest. His eyes squeezed shut on their own accord once he felt Leo’s arm closing around his waist and his hands grabbing at the back of his shirt as if it was a lifeline. “No,” he whispered into Leo’s hair, his voice quavering. “No, _fuck_ , no it’s not too late. It’s not too late, Leo.” The younger man’s breath hitched audibly and he began to cry again, though it didn’t sound like the desperate sobbing Cristiano had heard earlier. Leo’s tears soaked through his shirt - not that he thought about his shirt getting ruined for a second when he had Leo in his arms and when Leo was holding onto him like that. “I’ve fallen in love with you. I’ve known for a while, but you never... there was never a chance for me to tell you.”

He had feared that there wouldn’t be an immediate response and he was certain that he felt his heart dropping into the pit of his stomach when Leo loosened himself out of the embrace to look up at him. Despite being battered and bruised, he was still so beautiful. “I... love you too.”

That was it. Cristiano’s own vision grew blurry and he carefully took Leo’s face into his hands. He looked so much more vulnerable than at any other point during the many years that they’ve known each other, and James’ words resounded in his mind when he brushed his thumb over the unharmed one of his cheeks. _He fucking beat him, Cris. Black and blue. I’ve never seen anything like it._ Leaning down, he placed a careful kiss to the corner of Leo’s mouth that wasn’t crusted with blood and while it wasn’t exactly the first kiss he had always imagined, he couldn’t have wished for more. It lasted for no longer than a couple of seconds, but it was all that he had the heart to do when Leo was so obviously, so undeniably in pain. “Sit down,” he muttered and pulled a second chair close so that he could sit down in front of him, once more applying the ice pack. Cristiano rested his free hand on Leo’s thigh that time, his eyes roaming over the other man’s face.

“Si-ince when do you know?”

He tilted his head, the corners of his mouth twitching. “A year, I think. I don’t really know.” Leo, who had since closed his eyes, made a humming sound. “And you?”, Cristiano asked, giving Leo’s thigh a gentle squeeze.

“When you left Madrid.”

If the wold would’ve come to a screeching halt around him, he wouldn’t have heard it over the sound of blood rushing in his ears. _When he left Madrid._ “What?”

Leo nodded, a motion that resulted in a wince, “Yeah.”

 _Why didn’t you say anything_ was resting on the tip of his tongue, but it would’ve been a hypocritical accusation when he himself had kept his mouth short for that long. For too long, as he feared that he already knew the reason why Leo had bothered with Suárez in the first place. “Suárez...”

Leo drew in a shaky breath, “Well... you left a-and I... I had to look for someone else. I never really loved him, not even before he... changed, I just... I mean you left and...” His voice had grown quieter the longer he spoke until it was a hushed whisper, and Cristiano leaned over to kiss his forehead before he answered.

“I won’t leave again. I promise.” Leo’s eyes were glistering from a mixture of tears, pain and relief. “Will you tell me what happened?”

“He still had a few of my things that I wanted to get,” Leo whispered, more tears rising into his eyes. “I didn’t even do anything, he just...”

“Oh bebê.” He pulled the ice pack away to inspect the bruise, feeling anger boiling within him at the sight of it. The younger man muttered something that he didn’t understand and stood onto rather unsteady legs and Cristiano nearly jumped up from his chair. He cursed himself when Leo flinched at the sound of the chair scraping over the floor. “Where are you going?”

“I-I said that I’m leaving,” Leo whispered and vaguely gestured at his face. “I don’t want to be seen like this.”

Cristiano nodded and put the chair back where he had pulled it from, “Where are you staying?”

“I’m supposed to stay with Ney.”

“You can come with me if you want to?”, it blurted out of him before he could’ve considered whether it was to soon to suggest it. “You can use the guest room, of course.” The unharmed corner of Leo’s mouth twitched into a smile and he nodded slightly, allowing Cristiano to take his hand and intertwine their fingers as they exited the kitchen. “Wait,” Cristiano said before they walked past the living room. He reached inside the front pocket of his trousers and pulled his car keys out, “You can wait in the car if you want, I’ll go and talk to Neymar,” handing them over to Leo, who nodded and accepted them. He squeezed his hand before letting it go and he felt a twinge at the way that the other downright hasted past the opened living room door just in order to not be seen. Gerard and Neymar perched up when he entered the living room and he went straight to the Brazilian, lowering to speak into his ear. “He wants to leave. He’s staying with me tonight.”

Neymar, who wasn’t as surprised as Cristiano had thought he would be, nodded and leaned over to speak to Gerard while he turned to leave. He knew that Sergio would understand why he couldn’t possibly stay. His heart soared when he got into the driver’s seat of his Bugatti. He never would’ve dreamed that he would leave with Leo, even if the circumstances were everything but perfect. The Argentine seemed smaller than usually where he was slumped in the passenger’s seat and Cristiano hoped that the painkillers would kick in soon.

He reversed his car off the driveway, turning on the radio afterwards as he sensed that it would otherwise become uncomfortably quiet. He threw appraising glances at Leo every now and then as he drove. The other man’s eyes grew noticeably heavy the longer the car ride went on and it was when he stopped at a red light that Cristiano took his right hand off the steering wheel and laid it onto Leo’s thigh. He motioned to pull it away when a stir told him that he wasn’t as asleep as he had believed him to be, but was stopped when he felt Leo’s hand coming to rest on top of his own.

_Fin._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got the idea for this while I listened to Lil Wayne's "How To Love", and since the other things I'm currently working on are mostly light-hearted, I guess that this just had to be written ^^


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